Dreaming of You
by ceredonia
Summary: York keeps having these dreams of another life, and they're starting to really get to him. Is he meant to find someone to love, to have a family with? Or has he already, and he's just remembering fragments of another life? Dreams are weird.
1. Chapter 1

OMG HI YOU GUYS I HAD A DREAM AND HAD A NEW STORY IDEA AND GOT INSPIRED

Anyone who has found they're way here from Beginning of the End...well, you may see some similarities...or coincidences...hmmmm...

* * *

Prologue

You ever have one of those dreams where it's so real…so perfect…that you just _know_ it's a dream?

The kind of dream where you have everything you didn't know you wanted: a house, a dog, a significant other, that perfect sky-blue couch you saw in the window that one time of that high-end store you knew you'd never be able to afford. Maybe it's a dream of you coming home from the perfect job to find dinner on the stove and your kid waiting for you at the door, holding a picture he drew of you because he's so proud of you. Maybe it's a dream that you're in Hawaii, staring out at the ocean, feet in the sand as the water laps over your toes, a smile on your face as you know you're the happiest you'll ever be.

When you wake up, you're not really _that_ surprised, because you were so content, you just knew it had to be a dream.

What if it _wasn't_ a dream? What if it was a premonition? A warning, or a shout-out to start paying attention to your surroundings. You don't _really_ believe in that stuff, but some of those dreams are just too vivid, too rooted in real emotions and feelings to be merely imagined.

Sometimes, the universe has a plan, and god help you if you try to ignore it.

* * *

Chapter 1

" _Daddy_!"

"Not now, sweetie, daddy's sleeping…"

"It's _your_ turn. Get up."

" _You_ get up."

"I'm not doing this again." Movement from the other side of the bed. Sheets rustling, a pillow being tossed at his head. " _Your_ turn. You promised."

" _Fine_." With a sigh he rolled over, trying to gather his bearings in the dark. He heard grumblings coming from her side of the bed but wisely decided to ignore them, reaching out for his glasses. Stupid things were never where he left them; the eye doctor had assured him he'd get used to them in time, like they'd always been a part of his life, but that had yet to happen in the past five months, so he wasn't expecting things to change anytime soon.

His feet hit the plush carpeting and he stretched his arms overhead, purposely bouncing a little bit to annoy her. A grunt and a foot darting out towards him caused him to stand up with a chuckle, pushing her leg back under the comforter. He made his way towards the doorway and was grateful for once that the little tyke couldn't sleep without the hallway nightlight; it helped him not to run his shoulder into that damn shelf he kept forgetting to raise a few more inches.

"Sweetie?" He pushed open the bedroom door and peered inside. Their daughter was sitting up in bed, hugging her plush warthog that she prized so dearly. Stupid "Uncles Day," with their stupid gifts—

"Daddy, I had a bad dream."

Even in the dark he could see her little pout, her cheeks stained with tears. "Aw, sweetie, it's okay. I'm here. What did you dream about?" He settled down onto the floor next to her bed and laid his head on the edge of her pillow.

She pushed a tangle of red hair out of her eyes, shaking her head. "You an' Mommy were fighting."

"But we never fight!"

"That's not true!"

"Okay, so we fight all the time. But that's because Mommy likes to pick on Daddy."

"That's not true too!"

" _Fine_ , you got me, I like to pick on Mommy. It's all with love," he said with an exaggerated sigh. The giggle that earned was enough to cause his heart to twinge. "So what happened in your dream?"

"I was upstairs playing and you and Mommy started fighting and I don't know why and I went to the stairs and you were both yelling and it made me sad," she said with a sniffle.

"It was just a dream. We haven't yelled at each other all week!"

" _Daddy_!"

"I know, I know, I can't take anything seriously. Sorry," he said, reaching up to ruffle her hair and wipe her cheeks with the back of his index finger. "But I promise that everything is okay. You know you can trust me."

"I know."

"Do you think you can go back to sleep? I'm very tired."

"Not until you kiss Freckles." She tilted the warthog down to his face and he made an overly-loud kissing noise at one of the tusks.

"Is that better?"

"You didn't try very hard."

"Every day you sound more like your mommy, you know that?"

"Yes!"

"You're lucky I love her so much."

"Not as much as _me_!"

"Not even _close_." He laughed and struggled to get to his knees, using the edge of her bed to steady himself. He was getting older and no amount of healthy eating or careful exercise was going to keep his knees from wearing out.

"Good night, daddy."

"Good night, sweet pea. I'll see you in the morning."

She snuggled back down into her blankets and pillow as he slowly backed out of the room, taking care not to step on her various toys lying around, waiting to destroy his feet at any second he didn't pay attention. He swung the door shut, leaving a sliver of space for the nightlight to shine through, and headed back to the bedroom, unsurprisingly awake.

"She dreamed we were fighting," he whispered as he crawled back into bed. She rustled in her sleep and rolled onto her back, yawning as she started to emerge from whatever dream she'd been in.

"What?"

"The kiddo. She dreamed we were fighting and she was really upset. I think I made it better."

"I'm sure you did. She adores you, we both know that," she said through another yawn.

"I know, but it still breaks my heart when she cries. I hope that stops soon."

"What, the crying?" She laugh-snorted. "That'll stop when we die. Just wait till she learns how to play you with tears."

"Oh, I think she's already learned that from you, babe." He snuggled up against her side and slid his leg over hers, pulling her close.

"Hey, careful."

"He's fine," he mumbled, moving his hand to caress her stomach. The bump was just starting to show; they hadn't told anyone yet, but they were running out of time to keep it a secret.

"We don't know it's a boy yet," she said sleepily, tilting her head towards his.

He tucked in his chin so he could kiss the top of her head. "I have a feeling. I'm always right."

"You thought _she_ was going to be a boy."

"Well, I had a fifty-fifty chance. I'll be right this time."

"Mm-hmm."

"Shut up, babe."

"Good night, York."

"Good night, Lina."

* * *

" _Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake_ —"

" _NO_."

"— _up! Wake up! Wake up_ pppp…"

The chirping slowed to a baritone drawl and finally silenced as the alarm clock fell to the ground, defeated once and for all.

"That's better…"

"If you don't get up now you're going to be late for class," a voice echoed through the doorway, sounding more stern than usual.

"Shut up! You're not my real dad!"

"I warned you…"

Footsteps retreated and he rolled over in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Another dream, huh?" he muttered quietly, visually counting the cracks along the painted ceiling. He already knew how many there were, but it was comforting all the same. "Lina isn't even a _name_."

"York! Get _up_! You're my ride today, remember?"

" _Fuck off_!" He rolled over to grab a shoe from the side of the bed, sitting up as he hurled it towards the door. It connected loudly and he heard a shout from the other side, followed by a string of cursing that got louder as the door swung open.

"What was _that_ for?!"

"I told you to go away!"

"Did you have that stupid dream again? Is that why you're so fucking crabby?"

" _No_."

"Oh my god, it's just a dream."

"You clearly don't get it, Wash."

"Then explain it to me."

"I already have—I feel like…I'm missing something in life, but I don't know if it's supposed to be this girl, or just…I don't know."

Wash reached up to run his fingers through his short, military-appropriate blonde hair, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, it sounds like _you're_ the one who doesn't get it. Dreams aren't real. They don't predict the future or anything."

"Wow, such a romantic."

"I'm just a realist. Now get the fuck up and get dressed so we can get going. I've got papers to grade."

"Okay, you asked for it." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, letting the sheet fall from where it had been bunched up around his waist. Wash turned around immediately, his hands flying to his face to block the view.

"Oh _GOD_!"

"Take it in, man."

" _PHRASING_!" Wash ran down the hallway, crashing into picture frames as he darted for safety. York burst out laughing, bending over to pick up a stray pair of boxers from the floor.

* * *

"That was really uncalled for, you know," Wash said grumpily, staring out the car window as they drove down the freeway.

"Oh, it was funny, shut up."

"Whatever."

"Stop being so damn grumpy, you sour-puss."

"I swear, you're just an overgrown child."

York swerved to avoid a pothole and Wash bumped his head against the window, swearing loudly. "Hey, sorry. Pothole."

"Your _face_ is a pothole."

"You gotta work on those comebacks, buddy."

"Your _face_ has to work on comebacks—yeah, shut up."

York reached out to hit the button on his stereo, turning off the quiet stream of radio music that had been filling the car. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"If you promise to stop hurting me, physically _and_ psychologically," Wash responded.

"Shut up. I wanted to ask you if you ever think about…you know, settling down."

"With you? Hard pass."

" _Wash_ —"

"Oh, what, I can't give you shit sometimes? Seriously though, yeah, I do. I think about it a lot."

York glanced over to see Wash staring out the window. "Really?"

"Did you think I wasn't human or something? Of course I want to settle down." He could detect a hint of annoyance in Wash's voice.

"No, it's just—I don't know. You never really seemed into dating. It's been a while since you've gone out with anyone."

"Just haven't had time to think about that stuff lately. I don't really dwell on it. I figure it'll work out someday."

"Yeah…I hope it does."

"For me or you?"

"Well, both of us." York smiled. "I don't want any of us to be alone forever."

"North and I aren't enough for you now?"

He looked over to see Wash glaring at him, lower lip slightly stuck out. "I didn't say that, you moron."

"You _insinuated_ it."

"No, _you_ insinuated it. I'm perfectly happy with the way things are. Hell, I had sex a couple days ago. I want to settle down someday, but for right now, I'm pretty good with being thirty and single."

"What about all these dreams you keep having?"

"Who knows, man. Probably my subconscious trying to fuck with me. I should just ignore it."

"Probably a good idea."

* * *

"Hey man, lunch break." York knocked on the door to Wash's office, finding him practically buried in paperwork.

Wash glanced up with a smile. He reached up with his free hand that wasn't gripped around a red pen and pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Thank god, these essays are destroying my will to live. Hang on." Dropping the pen, he pushed his chair back and stretched his arms overhead. He let out a low groan as he walked over to the doorway where his coat was hanging on the back of the door, bending his arms behind his back, causing his shirt to ride up and expose a strip of his stomach.

A young woman sitting across the hallway from the office door leaned to the side in an attempt to see Wash stretching, her lips twitching into a smile as she reached for her phone on her lap. York caught her eye and her cheeks flushed pink as she quickly glanced away, looking anywhere but at them, absorbing her attention with her phone that was suddenly very fascinating. He chuckled and nodded towards her when Wash looked at him.

"Yeah, I know," he said with a grimace, obviously embarrassed. York grinned and shoved him into the hallway, following behind him.

"So does that happen a lot?" York asked around a mouthful of noodles.

Wash shrugged slightly, his face still a shade of light-ish red. "Sometimes," he admitted, glancing around. The university cafeteria was only half full, as most students were still in class at 2pm. It's why they usually took a later lunch. "I mean, it's definitely not the first time."

"And _how_ have you not been getting laid non-stop?!"

"Because I'm not going to sleep with the kids I teach?!"

York started laughing as a few students looked over at them with disgusted expressions. "I think you said that a little loudly."

" _Fuck_."

"Aw, don't worry about it. Hey, have you ever hooked up with any of the other teachers?" he asked, reaching for one of Wash's fries.

"No, and I really wish you'd stop asking."

"Hey, someone has to look out for your wellbeing."

"I'm doing fine—"

"Ooh, fries!" A hand reached over Wash's shoulder and snatched a few fries from the tray.

"Dammit, North!"

"Thanks, buddy." Their friend North settled into a chair next to Wash as he chewed on the fries. "So what's the crisis today?"

"No crisis, just co-eds lusting after Wash," York summarized.

Wash shot him a look. "It's not like that!"

"Same old?" North asked, ignoring Wash's protests.

"Same old."

"I hate you guys so much."

"I heard about this party tonight, you guys want to go?" North leaned back into his chair, stretching his arms out behind him.

"Where at?"

"One of the bars downtown, I have the details in a text. Friend-of-a-friend type of deal. We can meet at my place around nine and head over."

"Nine? It's a school night!"

"You're a teacher, Wash. Live a little."

"I gotta side with Wash on this one," York interrupted. "I haven't been sleeping very well lately; I can't do a late night tonight. Plus, we're going hunting on Saturday, so you need to stop running yourself ragged."

"You two are no fun." North sighed and sat up, shaking his head. "I've got to run. See you later? Want to get dinner instead?"

"I'm making steaks tonight, you're welcome to come over," Wash offered.

"Sure, I'll be there around seven. See you later!" He stood up and waved as he headed down the hallway towards the east parking lot. York let out a long exhale and leaned forward onto an elbow.

"Everything okay?"

"Just tired."

* * *

York stared out the windshield, focusing on a small blue flower that was sprouting out from underneath a small pile of leaves on the ground. He could still hear students wandering around the parking lot, chatting about classes and complaining about homework, and began to let his mind wander back to the days of college. Man, things were so much less complicated back then. Sometimes he wished he could go back…but then he remembered the work and how badly his grades suffered after the epic house parties he would host, and he knew he was better off trying to be an adult.

He just wished he could figure out why he kept having those weird dreams.

Maybe Wash was right; dreams couldn't predict the future, that was stupid. He should really just forget about them and move on.

…Oh, who was he kidding; of course he believed in that crap. It's why he was so popular in high school and college—all the girls heard about how romantic he was and wanted to date him. He never had a problem getting a date to even the lamest of events. As a matter of fact he _still_ didn't have a problem finding someone to hook up with, but each time it felt more like he was only delaying giving his heart away to someone who didn't really deserve his full affection. Which was _fine_ , most of the time…but he was really starting to want that something _more_ , and he wasn't sure where to find it.

As he stared out the window at the flower, he let his vision turn blurry and the flower morphed out of focus, creating a small patch of scratchy blue across his eyesight. He blinked and it reformed, looking just as it did before.

"Weird," he said aloud, for no one but himself to hear.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

York hovered over the kitchen stove, just over Wash's shoulder, trying to peer into the pan where steaks were waiting to be removed from heat and lovingly seasoned.

"Dude, get the hell out of my way," Wash lectured, trying to ram an elbow into his stomach. York dodged and sat down at the kitchen table, muttering about how hungry he was.

"Anyone home?"

"In here!"

North poked his head around the corner into the kitchen, smiling widely. "Oh man, I'm starving. Are they almost ready?"

"Yeah, in about five minutes," Wash replied. "Go ahead and grab some plates, I just need to finish up the potatoes and get everything divided up."

With a grumble, York got up and headed into the living room, plopping down on the couch to wait until delicious food-time. He turned on the TV and started logging into Netflix to turn on a comedy to kill time, the scent of perfectly cooked meat torturing his stomach.

"Hey, stop wasting time and come help set the table," North called out, dishes clinking as he pulled out the appropriate dinnerware.

"I'm good out here, thanks."

"If you're sure, then I'll just eat your steak…"

"Okay _fine_ I'll _help_ , just don't ever make that threat again!" York shouted, tossing the remote on the couch. He could hear Wash and North laughing as he walked over to the table to clear off books and papers.

* * *

"So how's work going?" Wash asked, reaching over to scoop another portion of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

North shrugged slightly as he rolled a piece of steak around in a puddle of steak sauce. "I don't know. I'm getting really bored with it lately. I think I need a change of pace."

"Didn't you just get a promotion?" York asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Doesn't mean I'm happy there. I'm kind of over the company; I've been there for what, six years now?"

"To be fair, accounting was always going to be boring," Wash said with a chuckle.

"What, and grading endless papers and tests gives you all you've ever wanted in life?" North retorted.

"The tests are Scantron so I don't actually have to grade them, dumbass, and yes, actually, I really like teaching. That's why I don't complain."

"Except for when you _do_ ," York pointed out through a mouthful of steak.

"That's not the same. I complain about the students, or the multiple issues I have with the school system itself. I don't complain about how lucky I am to actually _have_ the job."

"Fine, whatever, you have the _perfect job_ and the rest of us have to suffer." North heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair, tossing his napkin onto the table. "Whatever. I'll figure something out."

Sensing a disturbance in the force, York put down his fork and stood up, shaking his head. "Nope, I'm not going to let this amazingly delicious dinner turn into a snipe fest. We have done that far too many times, and I'm not putting up with it today. Instead, I shall tell you all a _story_."

"Oh, dear god," Wash and North moaned in unison.

"It was a day like any other day," York began, pushing his chair against the table so he could have more room as he started to pace. "A day with promise. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and there was excitement in the air."

"Dare I ask where you're going with this?" Wash mumbled under his breath. North laughed loudly but stopped when York glared at him.

"Don't interrupt story time. Anyway—so it's a perfect day, and there's a young man who has a crush on a girl. Today is the day—he's going to ask her out. There's absolutely no way she's going to say no. After all, they've been flirting back and forth and he just _knows_ it's going to go perfectly."

York walked around the front of the couch and leaned down into the cushion with his knee, bracing his hands on the backing. "He gets to the park where he's going to meet her—let's call her Casey—and he's early. So he goes to sit down on the swings and starts swinging back and forth…back and forth…" He waved his hands in timed gestures. "He's just waiting. He's starting to lose hope that she's not going to meet him. It's looking pretty grim, my friends."

"Does she show up?" North asked, leaning onto his elbows on the table, completely entranced. Wash had a look on his face that implied he was about to rip York a new asshole if he didn't stop, which simply egged him on more.

"She does, my dear North. She does—and she comes to sit by him on the swings, her hair perfectly styled, wearing her cutest fall dress and jacket. Everything seems perfect, and they start talking, about—stuff, I guess, I don't know. Friends and movies and school and whatever else. And it's going wonderfully amazingly well and the young man is so excited—he's going to do it."

"Then what happens?!"

"North—"

"Don't spoil the ending, Wash!" York pushed himself off the back of the couch and spun in a little circle, clasping his hands to his chest, fluttering his eyelashes. "It was _LOVE_ , he was sure of it! The young man gathered up all of his courage, turned to her, and said…" He took a deep breath, staring directly at Wash with puppy-dog eyes, "he said…' _On a scale from one to America, how free are you tonight_?'"

"You _fucking asshole_ —" Wash jerked to his feet and started stalking over to York, who ducked behind the other end of the couch, struggling to keep his balance as North looked between them, confused.

"Did I miss something?..."

"Oh, it was a beautiful sight to see!" York continued, a little out of breath from dodging around furniture. Wash caught his sleeve and he pulled away, barely able to flit away to behind a table. "This poor young man had put it all on the line based on a pickup line his friend had convinced him to use! It was just so tragic, yet hilarious—"

"You cost me the chance to finally date Connie, you _dick_!" Wash leapt over the table as though it was only a foot high and crashed into York, tackling him to the ground. He began throwing punches at York's chest as York attempted to defend himself, laughing hysterically. North watched from the table, shaking his head slowly.

"Anyone want dessert?" he wondered out loud, getting up from the table to go inspect the kitchen for food.

* * *

"Okay, see you tomorrow bright and early!" York called out as North retreated down the apartment steps to go to his car.

"Help me clean up," Wash instructed, gesturing towards the sink. York sighed and went to the table to finish clearing dishes.

" _Fine_."

"It won't kill you, I promise."

"I don't know—remember what happened last time? I think I'm allergic to the dish soap."

"That's because you squirted it everywhere and it got in your eyes. Everyone reacts badly to soap in their eyes. Stand here, I'll rinse and you put them in the dishwasher."

York set down the dishes in the sink and stood next to Wash, waiting for him to pass over a rinsed dish. They kept up the rhythm for a few minutes, until Wash apparently couldn't handle how York was loading the dishwasher and made them trade places.

"Why do you guys always pick on me?" Wash asked suddenly, turning off the tap water. He reached for a towel to dry his hands as York closed the dishwasher door.

"Because you're an easy target?"

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Look, I'm sorry. I use humor as a defense mechanism, you know that." York grabbed the towel from him and dried his hands, hanging it on the hook next to the sink afterwards.

"I know, but it's not like you need to really defend yourself," Wash pointed out as they went into the living room. "You've got everything going for you; what do you ever feel bad about?

"Oh, I don't know—the fact that I don't have a steady job, that I don't really have any money, that I don't have a girlfriend…"

"You love being a writer, you make enough to get by and you've somehow avoided being in a pile of debt unlike the rest of us, and you have more than enough sex to make up for not having a steady girlfriend."

"All valid points, I concede, but some days I feel extremely unfulfilled," York countered. "I just want to be happy, and it makes me feel better to point out flaws in others. Plus, I love being the funny one. It's my thing. Everyone knows that."

"Well, can you stop picking on me so much? It gets really old after a while."

York glanced over at Wash, who was still standing behind the couch, having not yet sat down next to him for their usual TV time. "I'm sorry. I really am—I'll try to stop teasing you so much."

"Thank you."

"Now sit down, it's time for more Wire. We've got to finish season two."

"I'm not really feeling like it right now. I think I'm going to go lay down, I've had a headache since this afternoon that just won't go away."

"Are you really that upset with me?"

Wash shook his head. "It's really not that, I'm used to your shit by now. My head is killing me though, so I'll see you in the morning."

"Fine, I'll watch something else then." York picked up the remote and leaned back against the couch. "Feel better."

"Thanks, I'll try," Wash called out from the hallway. He heard the bedroom door shut and swung his feet up onto the couch, trying to decide what to watch. After staring at the TV for a few quiet moments, he stood up and tossed the remote back onto the cushions. He walked over to the table by the front door and grabbed his gym bag and keys, swinging the bag over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

* * *

The gym was one of York's favorite places. It didn't matter if it was a fancy one while on vacation, or the junkiest gym in a poor neighborhood—as long as he could put in headphones and zone out while running on the treadmill or lifting weights, he was satisfied.

Tonight, however, wasn't going well.

He'd been running on a treadmill for about twenty minutes, making a pretty good pace, but he was unfocused and had nearly tripped a few times, one time having to catch his body weight on one wrist on the right handlebar. His wrist was still hurting when he finally pressed a few buttons on the display, stopping the treadmill so he could retreat over to a weights bench.

After a few standard reps of bicep and triceps curls he was already zoning out, staring at the mirrors as he watched his form falter. He set down the dumbbell and shook his head, running his fingers through his sandy brown hair—what the hell was wrong with him tonight? Usually the gym was the perfect distraction from whatever was bothering him.

Someone tapped on his shoulder and he spun around to see a girl standing next to him. She was sweaty and reached up to adjust a headband holding back her platinum-blonde short hair. "Yeah, can I help you?" he said with a smile.

"Can you spot me?" She pointed over to the free-lift weight bar. "I've been trying to increase my weight but you're the only one around here who doesn't seem incredibly busy or self-centered."

"Well, I don't know about the second part, but sure. Glad to help." He followed her over to the weights and helped her load a few plates onto each side. She settled down onto her back and held her hand up to shake his.

"Dakota."

"York."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. You ready?"

"Yep." Dakota reached up and gripped the bar, lifting it off of the supports. She dropped it down to her chest and began doing lifts, controlling her breathing. York stood behind her at the ready, making sure she didn't drop it. After ten lifts she was clearly struggling and he helped her get the bar back onto the supports, waiting while she took a deep breath. They repeated the routine twice more and she finished with a loud clang of setting the bar back, York handing her a towel afterwards.

"Great job!"

"Don't patronize me."

"I…I wasn't—"

"I'm not weak just because I'm a girl," Dakota said, sitting up to dab the towel around her neck.

"I never said that!"

Dakota sighed and stood up, giving York a look. "I'm sorry, I'm used to being put down around here. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"No, you really shouldn't have. Geez, you're such a girl."

" _Hey_!" She reached over to smack his arm as he laughed.

"Not sorry, you deserved that."

"You want to have dinner tonight?" Dakota asked, standing up.

"Oh—uh, sure, that'd be fun." York picked up his own towel from the floor. "Kinda threw me off, sorry. I don't normally get asked out at the gym."

Dakota smiled at him, pushing the headband up her forehead a little more. "Bullshit."

"Wow, am I that obvious?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Ow." York pressed a palm over his heart, feigning shock. "Fine. I'll pick you up at eight?"

"Give me your phone."

He reached into the pocket of his workout shorts and handed it over after unlocking the screen, watching as she typed something into a text message. She handed it back to him with a grin.

"I just texted myself my address, so you've got my number too. See you at eight." Dakota sashayed away towards the locker room, leaving York standing next to the weights, still slightly baffled at the exchange.


	3. Chapter 3

York pulled up in front of Dakota's apartment building and pulled up the emergency brake, glancing out the window. He'd managed to find a parking spot across the street and was staring up at the building, trying to decide if he should call her to let her know he was outside, or go up and knock on the door.

Gentlemanly actions won and he climbed out of the car, zipping up his jacket as he crossed the street and headed up the stairs, looking at each door to check the numbers. Finally, he found her apartment on the third floor and braced himself, knocking on the door. It swung open a few seconds later to reveal Dakota half-dressed in a bra and sweatpants, in the middle of brushing her hair.

"You're early."

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and flicked on the screen. "I'm three minutes late," he replied, showing her the screen. She narrowed her eyes to read it and frowned.

"Shit. Okay, hold on." She waved him in and disappeared into what he assumed was her bedroom. "Georgia! Entertain my guest!"

"Georgia?..."

"You want a drink while you wait?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw another girl materialize out of thin air, standing in the kitchen. She was much shorter than Dakota, with brown hair that fell to her shoulders and a green dyed-stripe tucked behind her right ear. "Oh—uh, no, I'm good, thanks."

"Your loss." She brought a glass of wine to her lips and raised an eyebrow at him as she sipped. "Dakota takes forever to get ready," she warned as she set the glass down on the counter.

"I'll make do," York replied with a smile. Georgia shrugged and walked over to the couch to sit down, picking up a book.

"Tough guy, come in here real quick," Dakota called out from the bedroom. York glanced over at Georgia, who was already engrossed in her book. This was already the strangest date he'd been on in a while. He took a deep breath and walked over to the door Dakota had disappeared through, pushing it open.

No one was in sight. "You in here?" he called out, images of those stupid Asian horror movies North liked to watch drifting through his head.

"Closet!"

He turned to see the closet door ajar and walked over, finding her inside, balancing on her toes in an attempt to reach something on a shelf. She had changed into a black mini dress with a lace back. "Can I help?"

"Yeah, grab me those violet shoes up there," she replied, pointing.

"You mean the purple ones?"

"Jesus, yes, the purple ones."

York reached over her head and plucked the shoes off the shelf, handing them to her. "There you go."

"Thanks." She tossed them on the floor and pushed him out the door as she stepped into them, adjusting the fit of her dress at the same time. "Okay, we can go now."

"Great! I was thinking we could start off with dinner, then there's this classic movie festival at the local theater—"

"No, I have a better idea," Dakota interrupted, walking towards the front door. He followed after her, slightly offended at being cut off. "See ya," she called to Georgia, who waved without looking up from her book.

* * *

"Yeah, this _is_ a better idea," York agreed, taking a sip of beer.

"Sorry I didn't want to go to some fancy restaurant," Dakota said, reaching for a chip. As she dipped it into the queso between them, he shrugged.

"Hey, this is cheaper, so I'm not going to complain."

"Good. Get me another beer, I've got to go to the bathroom." She slid off the barstool and he signaled to their waiter, who happened to be nearby. After he ordered a fourth round of beers, he turned his attention to the TV across the bar just in time to see the football team he'd been rooting for score a touchdown.

"Fuck yeah!" he said, pumping a fist in the air. The waiter brought over the two fresh beers and he started chugging one of them as a celebration drink. A minute later Dakota appeared back at the table, setting her purse next to her beer.

"We should go," she said suddenly, picking up her beer and draining it in a few large gulps. York raised an eyebrow, confused.

"But we just got here—"

"We can do one of two things, York." Dakota picked up her purse and tucked it under her arm, smiling at him. "We can stay here and eat dinner, have a normal date, do all that shit, or we can go back to my place, kick out Georgia, and have sex."

"My choice?"

"Your choice."

* * *

"You chose well." Dakota leaned back against the pillows propped up to the headboard, reaching up to fix her hair.

"So don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really craving a cigarette right now, and I don't even smoke."

"I don't think there's any way to take that besides a compliment."

York raised his head from the foot of the bed, grinning up at Dakota. "Good, because that's how I meant it."

She smacked one of his feet. "I'm going to get some water, want anything?"

"Water would be great."

York watched as she climbed out of bed, not bothering to get dressed or throw a sheet around herself. As far as he was concerned, it was the best view—she had a great build and one hell of an ass to look at.

She came back into the room a minute later carrying two glasses, handing him one as he sat up. "So, what do you do?" he asked, taking a large gulp of water.

Dakota sat down on the bed, stretching her legs out, still naked. "Little of this, little of that."

"What does that mean?"

"I sort of freelance around doing odd jobs."

"What, like…an assassin?"

She snort-laughed. "Yes, I'm a female James Bond. No, you dumbass, like repair work, tech work, stuff like that. I love technology."

"Really? That's interesting."

"Why, because I'm a girl?"

 _Ah shit, she was getting defensive again_. "No, and I wish you'd stop jumping to that conclusion," York chided.

"Sorry, automatic response."

"It's fine, but please stop assuming I'm putting you down for being a girl. I'm pretty sure you could kick my ass, if the sex we just had is any indication of your strength."

"Again, you're not wrong."

"Do you think we should get dressed?" York asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Sure, once you answer a question for me." Dakota set her glass of water on her bedside table and reached out to take his away, putting it next to her glass. She stretched out on the bed and angled her body so that her head was next to his, and reached up to trace the faded scar that ran down his left eye. "What happened?"

"Ah, yes, the old 'why is your eye fucked up' question, that never gets old."

"Fine, I don't need to know."

York smiled, tilting his head to kiss her palm. "Nah, it's fine. I'm a little surprised you didn't ask sooner."

"I try to have a little tact sometimes," Dakota scoffed.

" _Right_ , I believe that. Well, truth is, I got it from saving a life."

"Really."

"There was this puppy on the highway, and I pulled over to save the little guy. But when I got out of the car to pick him up, I heard a crash, and before I knew it, I was on the asphalt, a piece of shrapnel in my eye. Someone had hit my car and it practically exploded, and I was in the crossfire. It was worth it though—I saved that puppy, and he was given back to his owners. The town threw me a parade. I got to ride on the float—and was in charge of confetti."

"Oh my god!"

"I know, I'm kind of a hero."

"No, I'm completely shocked that _anyone_ would be _dumb enough_ to fall for that story."

York let out a huff. "What?!"

"Come on, how did it really happen?" Dakota slid a leg over his and curled up against his side, tickling his side.

"Hey!"

"Tell the truth and I'll stop."

York pushed her away, trying to worm out of her grip. "It was a stupid accident, back in college. A buddy of mine had fireworks, and we were being dumbasses, and one went off near my face. That's really it."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it kind of did. But hey, now I have a cool scar that gets all the ladies."

"So has anyone ever fallen for the dog story?"

"Once. But I think she was just horny and didn't really care, it was more of a conversation starter."

"Fascinating."

"Oh, screw you."

"Already did." Dakota rolled away across the bed and stood up, reaching for her shirt and underwear on the floor. "Listen, I think you already know where this is going, but—"

"You want to keep things casual, you're kind of a loner, you don't really want a relationship right now?" York supplied, sitting up.

"Wow, you're a mind-reader, aren't you?"

"It's fine. I'm not really into the whole relationship-type-thing right now anyway." York climbed out of the bed and started searching for his pants. "I should get home anyway; my roommate is probably wondering if I'm dead on the side of the road or something."

"Cool. Talk to you later? You've got my number."

"Sounds good." He shimmied into his pants and grabbed his shirt from where it had landed on a chair.

"I'll walk you out," Dakota said, reaching up to push her hair out of her face. York followed her outside as he put on his shirt.

"Hey, so, I did have fun," York said as they stood next to the door. She waited for him to slide on his sneakers. "I hope you did too."

"Oh, I did. I just…don't really do the whole post-date thing, you know?"

"I get it."

"Hope so. Okay, I'll talk to you later." Dakota turned away but York reached out, grabbing her arm. He spun her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips, his other hand sliding down to grab her ass. She leaned into the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue, flicking it against the roof of his mouth. Her hands pressed against his chest and pushed away, and he chuckled as she moved away, her lips glistening.

"Later," he whispered, reaching behind him for the doorknob. Dakota waved him away with a smirk and he exited the apartment, a grin stretching across his face.

* * *

York quietly opened the door, trying to slip inside without detection. All the lights were off; according to the microwave clock in the kitchen it was 3:12am. He sighed and lightly set his keys on the counter, feeling his way along the granite in the darkness.

His room wasn't far, but it felt like miles of hallway due to his state of exhaustion. He wasn't even going to attempt going to the bathroom to wash his face, since it was shared between his and Wash's rooms. After bumping into a few corners he finally found his room.

"You think I'd know where shit is by now," he muttered, carefully closing his bedroom door. He flicked on the light and immediately flinched, swatting at the light switch to shroud the room in darkness instead. A few fumbled attempts later he was finally in bed, the comforter half-covering his body, and staring up at the ceiling, thinking.

Thoughts didn't last long, and after a few minutes he was fast asleep, a quiet snore escaping his lips.

* * *

"You know how much I hate that sweater on you," she sighed, giving him a _look_.

"But it was a gift!" He reached down to tug on the hem in order to straighten the image that said "Rad to the Max" on it. "I can't just get rid of it."

"You really, really _can_."

"You're just jealous."

"Of what? How stupid you look? How that phrase is so nineties that even _they_ don't want it back? How North gives you the worst gifts _just_ to bother me?"

"To name a few!"

"My god…"

"Anyway, it doesn't matter." York reached out and grabbed her around the hips, pulling her close. He could still smell her shampoo; she'd used the fancy kind that made her fiery red hair soft to the touch. "The important thing is that I look good taking it off."

"Wow. That was a _bad_ line."

"Or was it _good_?"

She shook her head, leaning up on her toes to kiss his chin. "No, very bad."

"Or…?"

"Stop it."

"Aw, babe, don't stress too much. We're supposed to still be in our honeymoon phase, right? Newlyweds and all?"

She nodded. "Right, you're right. I know. I just want to get started with our own life. I have so many things I want to do."

"And I'm there with you, my love." He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her hips, feeling her squirm. "I always have been. Even when you were in New York."

"I thought we agreed—"

"Not to bring it up, I know. It just…still rubs me the wrong way sometimes. I'm sorry."

"We've talked about this. _We're_ together. _We're_ here. We're _married_."

"I know. I'll be fine. You haven't even talked to him since the wedding."

"Exactly. I love you, sweetie."

"Love you more, babe."

They kissed lightly and she left the room, shaking her head at the sweater. He chuckled and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the bed. In doing so he caught a glimpse of a picture of when she had lived in New York. That stupid picture had been up on the wall since they moved in, and he hated the smug fucking face of the guy in the photo. What a douchenozzle. The brother was fine, of course; he was too idiotic to really get the subtleties of the relationship. York sighed and left the room, his heart aching just enough to annoy him.

* * *

York rolled over in bed, cracking one eye open just enough to see the clock. It was 6:47am and he could hear Wash in the kitchen making breakfast.

The image of the other guy was burned into his mind. He'd seen him in the dreams before; black hair, stubble, massive douchebag. He didn't know _why_ he kept turning up in the dreams, but York hated him. He just knew he hated him. He could never remember the guy's name, as it always escaped him the moment he awoke.

"Breakfast," he heard Wash call out from the other side of the door. "Come on, it's Friday. You can't sleep forever."

He groaned and rolled onto his back. Sleep—that was all he wanted. Peaceful sleep without any dreams of jerks or other people. Just…quiet and relaxing sleep.

Was that too much to ask for?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The alarm clock kept beeping, no matter what he did. It just kept going off. Beeping incessantly. Beeping…like there was no end…

"Dude, are we getting up or are you just going to hit the snooze button for another twenty minutes?"

"Nnngh…fuck off."

"This was _your_ idea!"

"So tired…"

He heard rustling of blankets and a moment later a foot was shoving its way into his legs. "Come on, get up. It's already 4."

"My _god_ …"

"If you're going to wuss out on me, I'm going to go sleep on the couch. I could use a few more hours."

"Fine, I'm getting up. I'm up. I'm…getting up. Getting there. Moving my left foot…moving my right foot…"

"I'm going to go make some toast, and if you aren't up in five minutes I'm going to pick you up and dump you in the cold shower."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don't test me."

York rolled over in bed as he listened to North leave the room. He sighed into the pillow and lifted his head enough to see that it was still pitch-black outside. With the most effort he could summon, he curled his upper body up to a sitting position and reached up to rub his eyes sleepily.

* * *

"Just shoot already."

"Shh. I'm concentrating."

York focused his good eye on the crosshairs sight, letting the small red dot become clear. He let out a quiet breath and slowly began to squeeze the trigger, allowing the noise of the insects surrounding them fade away. The bullet fired through the air and splintered a small tree branch not two inches from the buck's head. The creature jumped took off at the speed of light, leaving nothing but a few scattered leaves in its wake.

"Fuck!"

"Did you really think you'd hit it?" North teased.

"I was _really_ close that time!"

"I'll take the next one so that we can actually say this trip was a success."

"I hate you."

"So tell me about this new girl," North said, taking a bite of his sandwich. They'd stopped for a break at a small open area in the woods. It was only 10am, but it already felt like they had been out for the entire day.

"How did you know?"

"Wash said you came home at some crazy hour the other night. I just assumed it was about a girl." North arched an eyebrow. "I mean, _I_ won't judge—"

"Shut up, it was a girl. Her name's Dakota. I met her at the gym."

"What's she like?"

"Strong-willed. A little crazy. Intense."

"And the sex?"

"A lot crazy. _Really_ intense." York chuckled. "Seriously, I don't think I've ever dated anyone like her before. Actually, _date_ isn't quite the right word. I mean, we hooked up, and we've texted a couple times since, but it's only been, like…36 hours or something."

"Are you going to go out again?"

"I asked her, but she hasn't responded yet. I hope so. I mean, fuck, I really want to sleep with her again. It was _crazy_ awesome sex."

"I don't need to hear about this, do I?"

"I don't know, let's see. She did this thing with her tongue that curled my—"

"Please stop!"

"You're no fun." York reached over to grab another beer out of the cooler and cracked it open, taking a sip. "So what's up with you lately, anyway? You've been AWOL for a couple months."

"We just had dinner together!"

"Yeah, but you're usually always at our place, and lately you've been mysteriously disappearing for days at a time. Seeing someone new?"

"I've just been busy."

"I don't buy it. Come on, spill."

North shrugged and leaned forward, playing with the strap on his rifle. "It's nothing. I've just been casually seeing this guy, and I don't know where it's going yet. I don't want to scare him off."

"What's his name?"

"James."

"Sounds… _old_."

"He's your age, asshole."

"I'm 32 years _young_ , I'll have you know. And you realize that means you're robbing the cradle, right?"

"I'm _34_. Stop making it sound like I'm your father's age."

"But I bet you like it when _he_ calls you daddy—"

"Fuck you!"

"What happened to…what was her name…Katherine, right?" York snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Katherine. She was hot."

"She's still around. I just haven't called her in a few days."

"Ohhh, I see. Playing the field, huh?"

North smiled wryly. "If that's what you want to call it. I don't know if I like her enough to make it a long-term thing, but she's really fun to be around."

"Great ass, too."

"I'm really more about _personalities_."

York guffawed. "Oh, you're all about boobs, don't even lie."

"Everyone _knows_ that _you're_ attracted to asses. And I'm not just speaking literally."

"Shut up."

"But yes, she has a _great_ rack," North mumbled, taking another bite of his sandwich. York just shook his head, somehow resisting the urge to say 'I told you so.'

"Ready to get back out there?" York stood up and gestured to the path they were near. "I think we've sat long enough."

"Yeah, let's get going." North set down his sandwich and started packing up his gear. "When do you think you want to head home?"

"Probably a couple hours, if that. Wash mentioned wanting to see a movie tonight, and I'm going to need a nap if I'm going to sit through whatever bullshit romantic comedy he wants to go see."

"It's not like _you_ have the best taste in movies," North teased.

"Die Hard is _so_ the best movie ever made!"

"Whatever. Let's go," he said, settling the backpack on his shoulders. York grumbled something under his breath and grabbed his pack, bending over to finish picking up his lunch.

* * *

"I think I need a new job," North said quietly as they watched the trees ahead of them, waiting for something to move.

"I thought you liked your job," York whispered back, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I do, but…I applied at a couple places last night, and I'm really hoping I hear back from one of them. There's a really great opportunity to be an account manager at one of the larger firms in town, and it would really help me develop some new skills."

"Are you sure? I thought you were gunning for the manager position at your work."

"I don't think she's leaving anytime soon. That old bitch is going to live longer than any of us," North sighed with a slight shake of his head.

"Hey, that's great. I hope you land an interview at least."

"Me too."

"Look." York pointed towards a small rabbit that had hopped into view. "You got this one?"

"Yeah." North lifted his rifle and aimed, waiting for the rabbit to stop moving enough. A few seconds later the shot rang out and the rabbit hopped away unharmed. The same couldn't be said for the bush next to where the rabbit had been.

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" North started swearing as York laughed.

"Maybe you should have ninja-kicked the damn rabbit."

"Shut up!"

* * *

"That was a waste of a trip," York commented as he loaded his gear into the back of his truck.

"I'll say. Couldn't even hit a _rabbit_ , for God's sake."

"We'll go again soon and have better luck. Maybe we were just preoccupied or something—"

"Hey, you, how's it going?"

York stopped mid-sentence and glanced over to see North on his cell phone, wandering a few feet away to talk. He shook his head and kept packing his gear into the truck, grabbing North's pack to toss it in next to his own.

"All set," he called out a minute later, slamming the hatch on the back of the truck. He waved over to North, who waved back, walking over while still on the phone.

"Okay, I'll see you tonight then," he said with a grin. York rolled his eyes and opened the car door to climb inside, waiting for North to get in.

"Who're you seeing later?" he asked when he got in the car.

"Katherine. Not talking to her for a few days apparently made her hornier than hell, so tonight should be fun."

"I can't believe you're going to be awake enough to get laid," York said through a yawn, starting the car.

"I'm not, so hopefully she'll be on top," North replied, leaning against the head rest, closing his eyes to sleep.

* * *

"Are you really blowing me off to take a _nap_?"

The tone coming through the phone nearly made him reconsider, but York stood firm. Well, _laid_ firm. He wasn't going to be moving for a few hours if he could help it.

"If you want, you can come over _here_ and blow—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

"I want to see you, but I've been up since 4am. I need a nap so badly."

"You're pathetic."

"We've only been on one date—are you already _that_ attached to me?"

Dakota laughed. "God, no. Don't flatter yourself. I'm just bored and thought we could have some fun."

"Again, the offer is on the table. But I'm not leaving this bed."

"I don't even know where you live."

"I can text you the address."

"How about you just call me when you wake up and we'll talk about dinner or something?"

York sighed. "I have plans with my roommate…but you're welcome to come along. He wants to go see a movie."

"Hard pass. I don't really do group hangouts."

"Your loss."

"Call me later?"

"Sure."

"All right, have a good nap," Dakota said with a chuckle.

"Talk to you later," York replied, moving the phone away from his ear to end the call. He set the phone down on the table next to his bed, the alarm already set for a couple hours later. Snuggling into his pillow, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She was staring at him.

 _Why is she staring at me_?

It was really starting to freak him out.

 _Man, she looks good in that skirt—no, stop that_!

"Hey, uh—" York cleared his throat and tried to lean nonchalantly against the side of the table. His hand slipped and he nearly toppled over, managing to catch himself just in time. "How have you been?" he asked, feeling like a moron.

"I've been fine. You've already been drinking, I see."

"Hey, no one came to my party. It's cool."

"I noticed; I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault my friends suck."

She shook her head. "Well, we can make the best of it, right?"

"Oh, sure. I mean—hang on." He straightened and walked over to the stereo, turning on his favorite jazz CD he always kept loaded. "There we go. Good ol' fashioned quality music."

"I didn't know you liked jazz."

"I bet there's a lot you don't know about me," he replied, sitting next to her on the couch. He expected her to move away a little, but she stayed where she was.

"Yeah, I guess not. We didn't really get off to the best start, did we?"

He smiled as he stared at her face, memorizing each freckle, the curve of her perfect nose, the color of her eyes. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why they hadn't gotten along.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked suddenly, feeling…strange.

She cocked her head, clearly confused. "I don't think so. Unless I am too."

"It just feels like something isn't right," York said, standing up. He glanced around the apartment, trying to remember when he'd moved in, who'd helped him unpack, why he'd put that lamp in the corner; anything that would jog another memory. "It's like…like I've already been here or something."

"Maybe you've had too much to drink," she observed, brushing a lock of red hair out of her eyes.

"Yeah, maybe…"

"I should go. I don't think anyone else is going to show up." She stood up and smoothed out her skirt, giving him a small smile. "I'm glad you like your new place. I'm sure I'll see you around sometime."

"Okay," he said, walking over to give her a hug. _That's what you do, right? Hug someone goodbye?_ He didn't even know what to say; he couldn't shake that weird feeling in his gut. He held out his arms and she folded into his embrace, setting her head on his shoulder for just a moment.

"Good night, York," she whispered, raising her head to lightly kiss his cheek.

"Good night, Carolina," he replied, squeezing her tightly. They broke apart and she gave him a little wave as she walked towards the door, taking the doorknob in her hand. She turned back with a small smile.

"The apartment looks great, by the—"

She was cut off by York crossing the carpet in a few steps, sweeping her up in his arms, desperately pressing his lips to hers. Her hands pressed into the back of his head seconds later, gripping small handfuls of hair as they held each other tightly, his hips pressed into hers. A quiet sigh escaped his mouth as she nipped at his lower lip, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. He ran a hand down her back and pressed his palm against the small of her back, pulling her in for another kiss.

* * *

York opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the fact that it was dark outside. His phone was playing an extremely obnoxious song in an attempt to rouse him from slumber. He blinked a few times, reached over to silence his phone, and rolled over onto his back, still feeling her lips on his own.

"Carolina, huh?" He stared at the ceiling, a small smile creasing his face.

* * *

A young woman awoke from a nap of her own, having just experienced another dream about a sandy-haired young man. She was sitting up on her couch, blanket in her lap, trying to figure out why she kept dreaming about things that felt so familiar, yet she had never experienced.


	5. Chapter 5

Shorter section this time. I've been so busy at work! I promise I'll try to do more soon!

Chapter 5

Dakota was staring at him.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"You're acting weird."

"Your _face_ is acting weird."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, grow up."

York smiled a lazy smile, leaning forward onto his elbows on the table. "Make me," he challenged.

"I don't even know how to respond to that."

"Hey, do you want to meet my friends?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do I have to?"

"I mean, we've been going out for about a month now, maybe they should get to know the girl that's draining my social time with them."

"So I'm some sort of vampire girlfriend now?"

"Of course not! I just think you'd get along with them, and I want you to meet them. It's like the modern version of meeting the parents. You know, if your friends don't like the person you're dating, then that's pretty much it."

Dakota reached over the table to stroke his hand. "I didn't know we were that serious yet."

"I wouldn't say _serious_ , it's just that I kind of want to show you off."

"Is that so? Then I guess I can't refuse."

York's smile turned into a grin and he spun his hand around to grab hers, pulling it towards him to kiss her knuckles. "Great! You can come over for dinner tomorrow night. Wash is making his famous steaks with homemade seasoning, seriously, it's the most delicious meat you'll ever have. Other than, you know…" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she pulled her hand away, shaking her head.

"Did you already have this planned and just hoped I'd say yes?"

"…I didn't _not_ do that?"

"Fine, I guess I'm stuck going now. For the record, I don't appreciate being coerced into doing things."

"I didn't coerce you!" York argued, offended. "Don't make it sound worse than it is."

"But that's what I do," she said with a grin.

"Yeah, you need to stop that."

* * *

"I'm so happy I finally get to meet Dakota in the light of day," Wash observed, carefully inspecting the slabs of steak that were on plates, getting ready to start dinner. He held a shaker in his hand, full of spices that he'd hand-mixed, and was thoughtfully sprinkling a dab here and there across the meat, as though he were decorating a cake.

"Yeah, sorry about that," York said from the table, pretending to read a magazine as an excuse to watch Wash be very weird about his cooking practices. "You probably haven't gotten to say more than a hello or goodbye in the mornings."

"Actually, I think I said 'there's juice in the fridge' once, but I don't know if she heard me. She grumbled or something and then went back into your room."

"That's more or less her personality, so don't take it personally."

"I never take your girlfriends personally. Or seriously."

"Hey!"

"She eats steak, right? I'm not just wasting my time?"

" _Yes_ , she eats steak. And if she doesn't like it, I'll eat it."

"If she doesn't like it, I'll dump her _for_ you."

"I appreciate that." York's phone vibrated on the table and he set down the magazine to read the text. "Oh, she's here. _Be nice_."

"I always am!"

"Yeah, that warning is more for North," York admitted.

"I resent that!" North called out from the couch, where he'd been parked all afternoon watching TV. He'd taken the day off work for a 'mental health day' as he called it.

"You know it's true," Wash yelled out.

"Shut up anyway!"

"Both of you shut up," York said as he waited by the door. A moment later a knock echoed and he swung it open to reveal Dakota standing there, looking amused.

"Hey," York greeted, reaching out to take her arm to lead her inside.

"Hey," she replied, kissing his cheek. She set her purse on a small table by the door and surveyed the apartment. "Kind of weird being here when it's still light outside."

"That's what I said," Wash said with a laugh, drying his hands on a dishtowel. "I'm Wash, nice to officially meet you," he followed up, holding his hand out. She took it and shook it lightly.

"You too. I think you mentioned juice to me once."

"You _did_ hear me!"

"And this is North," York introduced, gesturing towards the man who was finally standing up for the first time in hours. "He doesn't live here officially, but he's here all the time anyway."

"I've heard a lot about you," North said, giving her a wink as they shook hands. "Don't worry, it wasn't all nice things."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Dakota replied, shaking her head. York was turning a little pink in the face with embarrassment, so he cleared his throat and guided her towards the couch. North settled into a chair facing the couch.

"We can relax for a bit, Wash is about to start the cooking portion of dinner so that won't take long."

"I sear them, so they'll be done really fast," Wash said from the kitchen where he was setting up a pan on the stove. "Fast, but perfect."

"I'm trusting you, man. I haven't eaten all day," North grumbled.

"Go sit down and make small talk."

"So, it's you and Wash who live here, right?" Dakota asked, settling down onto the couch.

"Yeah, it's been us for…I don't really know how long now," York replied, glancing over at North. "Since college, at least. Sometime in there. North came along later, but he doesn't live here. Well, he did for a while."

"I needed a couch to crash on," North explained. "I'd just gotten dumped and didn't feel like going home to an empty apartment every night."

"It wasn't empty—Valencia was there, since it was _her_ place."

"And thank you for reminding me of her." North shook his head. "Anyway, I think I only stayed here a few weeks. Once you see Wash get out of the shower and walk around naked while shoving donuts in his face at 6am, you pretty much get all the motivation you need to get your shit together."

"Hey! Donuts are delicious!"

Dakota laughed, reaching over to rub her palm just above York's thigh, causing him to squirm a little. "Nudity's never bothered me. I usually prefer to be naked anyway, it's more comfortable."

North's eyebrow arched with interest as York shifted his weight, clearing his throat. "How are the steaks coming, Wash?" he called out.

"Starting them as soon as the pan heats up," Wash shouted back over the popping of hot oil in his frying pan. "Sit tight!"

"Oh, he is," Dakota said loudly enough for York and North to hear.

"So what do you do, Dakota?" North asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I used to skate in roller derby, but that sort of turned into becoming a personal trainer," she replied, flexing her bicep. "I freelance around at various gyms; I'm trying to save money to start my own gym, but that dream is pretty far away at this point."

"You guys met at the gym, right?"

"Yeah, I think it was arms day," she chuckled, still massaging York's thigh. "I helped him with leg day though. Well, leg _night_."

"I get it," North interrupted, rolling his eyes as he smirked towards York, whose cheeks were turning pinker by the second.

"I hear you're an accountant? Is that as boring as it sounds?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "I've wanted to find a new job, but that's something I don't want to deal with right now."

"Understandable."

"Wash is a teacher," York blurted out, reaching a hand towards Dakota's to wind his fingers between hers, stopping the thigh massage.

"You've told me already," Dakota said with a smile. "I'm going to go wash my hands. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the left," North said, and she stood up with a quick nod of her head, heading towards the hallway. As soon as she was out of earshot, he scooted over to the couch, leaning in to whisper to York. "Dude, what is your problem? She's hot, why are you acting all weird?"

"I don't really like the whole PDA-thing," York grumbled, smoothing out his jeans.

"Bullshit. I've seen you practically swallow a girl's face at parties before. And while out at dinner. At fancy restaurants. In front of parents!"

"She makes me uncomfortable, all right?" he hissed, standing up. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But—"

"Man, I am so hungry," Dakota said, suddenly appearing next to them again. York jumped a little and she grinned, reaching up to tuck a strand of platinum hair behind her ear. "Should we grab a beer and get ready to eat?"

"Yeah, sounds good." York put a hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the kitchen, shooting North a glare over his shoulder. North shrugged and stood up, shaking his head.

* * *

York stared up at the ceiling, his right arm slung over his forehead. Dakota's steady breathing filled the space beside him in the bed, and a streetlamp shone faintly into the window, eking past the curtains.

A faint knock at the door broke him out of his reverie and he blinked, trying to focus on the present. Carefully he slid out of the bed, making sure not to wake Dakota, and crept to the door, pulling it open just enough to see outside. Wash was standing on the other side holding a plate with a slice of pie on it.

"Dessert?" he whispered, tilting his head towards the living room. York smiled and nodded, shutting the door so that Wash didn't have to see him without his boxers. He quickly threw on a pair of pants and a t-shirt and went to meet him outside.

"Is everything okay?" York asked, taking the plate from Wash. He wandered into the kitchen for a fork as Wash sat at the table, tapping his fingers on the wood.

"Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. Dakota sort of led the conversation during dinner so I didn't really get to talk a lot, which was weird."

"Ha, yeah, you usually do that, I guess." York sat down at the table and started digging into the slice of pie. "Something bothering you?"

"Not _bothering_ , so much as…I don't know. Do you like Dakota?"

"That's a stupid question. Obviously I do."

"No, I get that. I guess what I meant was, do you _like_ like her?"

York set the fork down on the edge of the plate with a sigh. "Wash, just come out and say it."

"Fine—I don't get a good feeling from Dakota."

"How so?"

Wash rolled his shoulders forward, slumping in the chair. "Something about her, it just—I don't know how to explain it. You're not yourself around her."

"Did North talk to you?"

"Yeah, but—"

York shook his head. "Stop, Wash. You don't have to overreact like this. Don't worry, Dakota and I aren't going to be a super-serious thing. We're just having fun."

"I didn't get that vibe from her. She seems pretty invested."

"Well, it's _me_."

"You know what I mean."

With a smile, York pushed the pie away and looked straight at Wash, who was staring down at his hands in his lap. "Look, man. I appreciate the concern, but stop it. One, you have no say in who I date. Two, there's nothing wrong with Dakota. She's a little…possessive, maybe, but she's relatively normal. Three, you and North don't need to conspire behind my back. It's a little weird."

"He said you don't feel comfortable around her," Wash piped up. "Why?"

"Are you my psychologist now?"

"I'm concerned. I haven't heard you talk like that about someone since—"

" _Don't_."

"Fine. But you get where we're coming from, right?"

"I do. I appreciate the concern, but it's mostly unfounded."

"York—"

"Dude, I'm finally getting laid on a regular basis. I _need_ this. Don't fuck it up for me. Stay out of it, okay?" He stood up, pushing his chair out behind him with his legs, and headed for his bedroom. "Good night, Wash."

"Night, York."


End file.
